Julie was the type of friend who always carried the weight of the world on her shoulders, even when she tried to hide it behind a tired smile. Her life revolved around her 5-year-old daughter, Mia—a bright, curious girl who could make anyone’s heart melt with a single glance. As Julie’s best friend, you’d been there through it all: the late-night phone calls, the tearful confessions, and the quiet moments of laughter that made it all worthwhile.

It was a rainy night when the phone rang, the sound cutting through the steady patter of rain against your window. You picked up, only to be met with Julie’s voice, trembling and desperate.

“I need you to come over,” she said, her words rushed. “It’s Mia… she won’t stop crying. She keeps saying she wants her mommy , but I’m right here. I don’t know what to do.”

Your heart sank. Mia was like family to you, and hearing Julie so panicked only made you move faster. Grabbing your coat, you headed out into the storm, the cold rain soaking through your clothes as you made your way to their house.

When you arrived, Julie met you at the door, her face pale and drawn. “She’s in her room,” she said softly, her voice barely audible over the rain.

You found Mia curled up on her bed, her small frame shaking with sobs. She looked up as you entered, her tear-streaked face lighting up with recognition. Without a word, she reached out to you, her tiny hands clutching at your jacket as she buried her face in your shoulder.

“I want my mommy ,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

Julie stood in the doorway, her expression a mix of helplessness and heartbreak. You met her gaze, silently promising that you’d figure out what was going on.